


this is how we do it

by RJNA (hodgybeats)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, more to come - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hodgybeats/pseuds/RJNA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider is going to learn a lot of things about a lot of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is how we do it

**Author's Note:**

> this is gonna be a ride. ask me questions. help me @ rjna.co.vu

There is a time in your young life wherein you realize that John Egbert (status: best friend—okay, he was there first—honorary brother, football team golden boy who you in turn are the ‘white friend’ to)—

You realize that John Egbert has not one, but two hot sisters.

 It is the year of our lord two thousand and thirteen, and your name is Dave Strider.

 

* * *

What you do have to realize is that the first Hot Sister, Jade, is probably off-limits already; because here’s how it went down; you, at some point in the eighth grade, realized that to have any semblance of good social standing upon entering Alternia High School, needed a date to _The_ Dance.

This was not just any dance, though. This was _promotion_. Not _prom_. Not a ‘ _back to school bash’_. Not a stupid dinky chaperoned (okay, it is chaperoned but that’s beside the point) dance where the drinks cost a dollar and all of the girls are dancing without shoes on. No. That’s lame as hell. This was, like, a party John tried to throw in freshman year, minus the vomit and the “is that kid in fucking middle school?”

Now you’re thinking retroactively.

The point is, you asked your best friend’s sister (contacting her was strike one, no matter how hot she was—and yes, you reaffirmed, hot eighth graders existed; you were one) to promotion. That was strike two.

You suppose that strike three was not telling John and him being like, “Dave, what the fuck,” when he noticed that you were holding hands with her in the car the night of. And him being like, “Dave, what the fuck,” when you tried to slow dance with her. (He noticed this about five minutes too late.  Note that his date was a certain Vriska Serket. But that’s another story.) And then him being like, “Dave, what the _fuck_ ,” when he socked you in the shoulder after you kissed his sister during the Cha Cha Slide. (You remember it very vividly—one hop, one hop, two hops, two hops, smooch, “Dave, what the fuck,” smack.)

 

* * *

So you dated Jade. Jade with the long, long braids and glasses and eyelashes so long, the mascara only makes it harder to look away, Naomi Campbell lips and skin and height awkward for eighth grade but perfect this year; finally growing into her hips and god, John is going to kick your ass but it’s not even Jade you want to date anymore.

It’s Jane.

Jane, the _older_ sister, which is worse, because she is automatically cooler, harder to obtain, and you know that you should not be thinking about a girl like that. Your stomach gets flutters thinking of her; the girl who campaigned for a Le Cordon Bleu-style culinary art program and makes a mean batch of brownies (maybe the best-kept secret you’ve had is when she made them for John and Jane in sixth grade and you stole them). The girl with this _perfect_ hair and this one time, you made a Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff panel with a photo of her brownies and when you edited it _just_ right it was the color of her skin, that pretty dark that you wish you knew how to shade in art. You catch her at John’s sometimes, always in these bike shorts and this tank top like she’s just been working out, watching _Vertigo_ starring Jimmy Stewart (a grail from Hitchcock’s filmography, in your opinion. It only makes your pining worse.) and holding a toy rabbit that Dirk got her. (When you catch that, you feel actual jealousy. Wow. You can make stupid animal toys, too, bro.) She laughs like a cartoon character at the stupidest shit you do, like tripping over the recliner when you’re looking for your biology notes. You can’t even look at her and deliver some sort of snarky, scathing remark.

She’s... _gutsy_.

 

God fucking damnit.

So you have a crush on your best friend’s older sister; which is a shame because she thinks you’re a fucking joke. She babies you. She lets you lick the batter off the spoon when she’s making cakes; whereas when John tried that shit he gets a quick swat and a “nice try, asshole,” which he replies to with his stupid “ha ha ha” laugh. She’s kind to you, but... it’s like... a momly kind of kind. Like, every once in a while you can bum a ride to school off her when it’s raining.

Maybe you’ve got some sick Oedipal shit going on in your brain.

* * *

 

 

So there is a thing you do when you can’t go to John about this. You go to Karkat; the one who was not there first, but still a best bro.

(You guys had freshman PE together; and there’s really no option other than to become best bros with the guy you see in his American Apparel boxer-briefs every day in first period.)

The point is that in a way you guys are closer. And, like, not, at the same time, because John still exists. Also, it’d be really fuckin’ weird to talk to John about this. Either way, you’re screwed. Like a porn star. You’ll go with the less harsh option this time—funny enough, it’s Karkat. Karkat, who you said you were gonna make out with for at _least_ 20 seconds and it will be recorded and posted on social media _if_ Skaia Prep wins the state championships, and maybe you really _can_ trust the dude with this. 

Wow.

Lame. You suppose you’ll catch his bus after school or drop the bomb when you two are in bio. Real casual-like; “I want to fuck John’s sister. Not that one. The other one.” Or maybe you can skywrite it. Maybe you could type out your dilemma, print it out, place it in the book he’s reading ( _Lock and Key_ , Sarah Dessen).

This is getting a little cutesy, you realize.

You’re just gonna text him.

>   
>  FROM: dave
> 
> MSG: yo
> 
>  
> 
> FROM: dave
> 
> MSG: yoo
> 
>  
> 
> FROM: dave
> 
> MSG: yooo

 

Yep.


End file.
